Old Pang paced up and down the living room, constantly glancing
at the spread he had prepared. Occasionally he would stop to
cough and clear the phlegm in his airways. Finally he stopped
pacing the floor and peered through the windows.

Simultaneously, there was a knock on the door.

Old Pang flashed a grin and rushed over to open the doors. As he
did, he experienced searing pain in his joints and the joints
groaned like rusty hinges. When he finally unlocked the door, he
was greeted by the irritated looks etched on the faces of his son
and daughter-in-law.

Old Pang managed a weak smile and mumbled in his hoarse voice,
"I've prepared your dinner. I will go and re-heat it now."

"No need," Pang's son, Ken, said flatly.

"We have had our dinner," Pang's daughter-in-law, Constance
added.

The two then walked right past him, and as their shoulders met
Pang's, Pang was nearly knocked off balance. Old Pang sighed
deeply. They did not even greet him.

Only his grandchildren, Grace and Royston addressed him politely
as 'Ah Gong'.

One day Old Pang was ironing the clothes when he smelled
something wrong.

Ken was not reading his newspaper; he would usually read the
papers the moment he returned home. Constance wasn't doing her
manicure. Nor was she polishing her nails. Or engaging in idle
talk over the phone, gossiping about the friend of somebody
across the street. And the children were not in the living room.

Old Pang was surprised; Ken rarely addressed him as 'Pa'
and Constance was usually mean to him, if not unkind.

"Eat Pa, eat," Ken ushered.

Old Pang's eyes flitted across room, and as his eyes met theirs,
they seemed to flinch and look away contritely.

"What is it?" inquired Pang.

"Nothing," Constance denied flatly.

As soon as Pang finished the last morsel of food, Ken began.

"Pa, you don't need a lot of money, do you?" Ken asked
casually.

"Sorry?"

"I mean…You don't shop and I've asked you to stop cooking for us,
so you don't have to buy much grocery…"

Old Pang coughed.

"What?"

"Alright then. I'll cut to the chase. I remember you saying
you've about four hundred and fifty-thousand dollars."

"But that's for my retirement years,"Pang insisted defensively.

"You're retired. And you don't seem to be spending any of that
money, do you?"

"But-"

Constance wanted to speak, but Ken held her back and reassured
her,"I can handle it."

"Pa, I am your son. Don't you trust me? I need it to invest in
stocks so that I can expand my company."Ken pleaded.

That night, Old Pang transferred all his money to his son.

And that night was the last time Old Pang heard Ken call
him 'Pa'.

Old Pang has not been feeling quite so well lately. At first it
was just a minor cough. Then the cough attacks became chronic,
especially at night. Phlegm turned into blood. Old Pang visited a
specialist, and the specialist told him he had fourth stage
adenocarcinoma. He did not understand what that was. All
he understood was that he had only a few more months to live. He
dare not tell his son or daughter-in-law, for fear of being
berated by them for not taking good care of his health. But they
scolded him anyway; they chastised him for coughing so loudly
that they cannot have a single day of good night's sleep; they
admonished him for coughing so noisily that Grace and Royston
cannot do their homework in peace; and they upbraided him for
playing with the grandchildren and warned him to stay away from
them, lest they should contract his 'cough'.

One night Pang's bouts of illness got the better of him, and his
cough was especially loud. After clearing his phlegm, Old Pang
decided to go back to sleep. Just then, he heard footsteps.

"Enough," Ken said sternly.

"I'm sorry. I-"

"I said ENOUGH!"

Silence followed. After what seemed like eternity, Ken broke the
silence.

"You get out of my house. Now."

Suddenly, a strong hand shoved him to his feet and dragged him
across the flat. Ken unlocked the front door with his spare hand
and tried to push him outside. Old Pang clung desperately onto
the metal grilles, but Ken pried his fingers and they gave way.
Even Constance, who already came out of her room, stared
saucer-eyed at the scene unfolding before her very eyes.

"Ah Ken," Pang whimpered.

"Ah Ken!" Pang sobbed.

Having heard the commotion, two heads popped out of their room.

"Go back to sleep now!" Ken roared.

And the door was slammed in Old Pang's face, as the first drops
of rain fell upon his head.

He did not even answer to his plea.

He did not even give him the time to collect his daily
necessities.

He did not even give him the chance to bid farewell to his
grandchildren.

Old Pang glanced over his shoulders at the door over and over
again, as if that would cause the door to swing ajar. But the
door remained closed. Old Pang glanced at the door for the last
time and walked away. Old Pang's heart ached. The pain was
excruciating. He coughed hard and tasted blood. His breath became
short. He gasped for air, but the cold wind offered no help. Even
the tempestuous clouds took no pity, and they began to unleash
their fury upon Pang. The rain drummed against the ground and the
thunder rose to a deafening crescendo, obscuring the noise of
Pang's breath. Old Pang stopped walking. He rested his emaciated
body against a tree, but the rough bark scraped against his back
and offered no solace. The thunderstorm did not abate, and the
rain continued to pound harder, while Old Pang let the rain drops
fill the cracks in his skin.

Old Pang breath had become so shallow that it was barely audible.
He gasped for more air, but his weak lungs failed him.

And Old Pang breathed his last.

As a drop of tear hit the ground, forming a glistening orb that
would soon be washed away by the rain.

"Son, where are you taking us?" Constance asked.

"You will like that place." Royston insisted.

" Where?"

"You'll find out."

"But I want to go home."

"You'll like it there."

"But I want to go home."

"I'll bring you home later. I promise."

The car stopped. Constance and Royston got out of the car and
helped Ken to his feet. Ken look confused. Constance and Ken
squinted at the words emblazoned on the gate, but age had failed
them. All they could see were people clad in white.

"Have you made the payment at the registry?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Mr and Mrs Pang. This way."

The two were led inside. Suddenly it occurred to them that
Royston was no longer with them. They frantically hobbled back to
the gate and made feeble attempts to push the metal gates open.

And they waited and waited and waited for their son to return for
them, but he merely got into the car and the car looked smaller
and smaller and smaller until it disappeared from view.

Old Pang paced up and down the living room, constantly glancing
at the spread he had prepared. Occasionally he would stop to
cough and clear the phlegm in his airways. Finally he stopped
pacing the floor and peered through the windows.

Simultaneously, there was a knock on the door.

Old Pang flashed a grin and rushed over to open the doors. As
he did, he experienced searing pain in his joints and the
joints groaned like rusty hinges. When he finally unlocked the
door, he was greeted by the irritated looks etched on the faces
of his son and daughter-in-law.

Old Pang managed a weak smile and mumbled in his hoarse voice,
"I've prepared your dinner. I will go and re-heat it now."

"No need," Pang's son, Ken, said flatly.

"We have had our dinner," Pang's daughter-in-law, Constance
added.

The two then walked right past him, and as their shoulders met
Pang's, Pang was nearly knocked off balance. Old Pang sighed
deeply. They did not even greet him.

Only his grandchildren, Grace and Royston addressed him
politely as 'Ah Gong'.

One day Old Pang was ironing the clothes when he smelled
something wrong.

Ken was not reading his newspaper; he would usually read the
papers the moment he returned home. Constance wasn't doing her
manicure. Nor was she polishing her nails. Or engaging in idle
talk over the phone, gossiping about the friend of somebody
across the street. And the children were not in the living
room.

Old Pang was surprised; Ken rarely addressed him as
'Pa' and Constance was usually mean to him, if not unkind.

"Eat Pa, eat," Ken ushered.

Old Pang's eyes flitted across room, and as his eyes met
theirs, they seemed to flinch and look away contritely.

"What is it?" inquired Pang.

"Nothing," Constance denied flatly.

As soon as Pang finished the last morsel of food, Ken began.

"Pa, you don't need a lot of money, do you?" Ken asked
casually.

"Sorry?"

"I mean…You don't shop and I've asked you to stop cooking for
us, so you don't have to buy much grocery…"

Old Pang coughed.

"What?"

"Alright then. I'll cut to the chase. I remember you saying
you've about four hundred and fifty-thousand dollars."

"But that's for my retirement years,"Pang insisted defensively.

"You're retired. And you don't seem to be spending any of that
money, do you?"

"But-"

Constance wanted to speak, but Ken held her back and reassured
her,"I can handle it."

"Pa, I am your son. Don't you trust me? I need it to invest in
stocks so that I can expand my company."Ken pleaded.

That night, Old Pang transferred all his money to his son.

And that night was the last time Old Pang heard Ken
call him 'Pa'.

Old Pang has not been feeling quite so well lately. At first it
was just a minor cough. Then the cough attacks became chronic,
especially at night. Phlegm turned into blood. Old Pang visited
a specialist, and the specialist told him he had fourth stage
adenocarcinoma. He did not understand what that was.
All he understood was that he had only a few more months to
live. He dare not tell his son or daughter-in-law, for fear of
being berated by them for not taking good care of his health.
But they scolded him anyway; they chastised him for coughing so
loudly that they cannot have a single day of good night's
sleep; they admonished him for coughing so noisily that Grace
and Royston cannot do their homework in peace; and they
upbraided him for playing with the grandchildren and warned him
to stay away from them, lest they should contract his 'cough'.

One night Pang's bouts of illness got the better of him, and
his cough was especially loud. After clearing his phlegm, Old
Pang decided to go back to sleep. Just then, he heard
footsteps.

"Enough," Ken said sternly.

"I'm sorry. I-"

"I said ENOUGH!"

Silence followed. After what seemed like eternity, Ken broke
the silence.

"You get out of my house. Now."

Suddenly, a strong hand shoved him to his feet and dragged him
across the flat. Ken unlocked the front door with his spare
hand and tried to push him outside. Old Pang clung desperately
onto the metal grilles, but Ken pried his fingers and they gave
way. Even Constance, who already came out of her room, stared
saucer-eyed at the scene unfolding before her very eyes.

"Ah Ken," Pang whimpered.

"Ah Ken!" Pang sobbed.

Having heard the commotion, two heads popped out of their room.

"Go back to sleep now!" Ken roared.

And the door was slammed in Old Pang's face, as the first drops
of rain fell upon his head.

He did not even answer to his plea.

He did not even give him the time to collect his daily
necessities.

He did not even give him the chance to bid farewell to his
grandchildren.

Old Pang glanced over his shoulders at the door over and over
again, as if that would cause the door to swing ajar. But the
door remained closed. Old Pang glanced at the door for the last
time and walked away. Old Pang's heart ached. The pain was
excruciating. He coughed hard and tasted blood. His breath
became short. He gasped for air, but the cold wind offered no
help. Even the tempestuous clouds took no pity, and they began
to unleash their fury upon Pang. The rain drummed against the
ground and the thunder rose to a deafening crescendo, obscuring
the noise of Pang's breath. Old Pang stopped walking. He rested
his emaciated body against a tree, but the rough bark scraped
against his back and offered no solace. The thunderstorm did
not abate, and the rain continued to pound harder, while Old
Pang let the rain drops fill the cracks in his skin.

Old Pang breath had become so shallow that it was barely
audible. He gasped for more air, but his weak lungs failed him.

And Old Pang breathed his last.

As a drop of tear hit the ground, forming a glistening orb that
would soon be washed away by the rain.

"Son, where are you taking us?" Constance asked.

"You will like that place." Royston insisted.

" Where?"

"You'll find out."

"But I want to go home."

"You'll like it there."

"But I want to go home."

"I'll bring you home later. I promise."

The car stopped. Constance and Royston got out of the car and
helped Ken to his feet. Ken look confused. Constance and Ken
squinted at the words emblazoned on the gate, but age had
failed them. All they could see were people clad in white.

"Have you made the payment at the registry?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Mr and Mrs Pang. This way."

The two were led inside. Suddenly it occurred to them that
Royston was no longer with them. They frantically hobbled back
to the gate and made feeble attempts to push the metal gates
open.

And they waited and waited and waited for their son to return
for them, but he merely got into the car and the car looked
smaller and smaller and smaller until it disappeared from view.